Flat Festivities

At this time of year it's difficult to ignore the urgency quietly underlying any contrived seasonal cheer. That's not to say that there isn't some solace, or even joy, to be had throughout the holidays, but sometimes you have to dig deep through obligatory functions and commercialism to find it. Lights on the tree, book in hand, wrapped in a king sized plush blanket on my grandfather's chair is my jam.

Chunky knitted sweaters, the word 'cozy' and the concept of hygge are a few of my favourite things but whoa does the cold ever harsh my already-ephemeral productivity and sociability. I could seriously live in my parka for the next four-to-six months. In entirely related news, here are (likely) my last poems for the year.

Tangerine skyline
Falsify the dawn of day
Rise against fresh pine

Sublime holy rode
Nurture humble legends told
Transcend hallowed ode

She sells sweet sea shells
As saline swells seek sage shores
Shrouded by stone salve

Parched, salt stained lips part
Whisper tales of coastal strife
Steady, off by heart

All paths were traced
Among the blood stained flowers
Between the ghosts of ages
Beyond the ancient stellar ash

All distances erased
Arising from a mythic depth
Encircling distaff and spindle
Converging in a yellow wood

All boundaries misplaced
Mounted in long-shadowed time
Dried out groves of needled-pine
Seeded in cosmic design